Jam.

It was my Freshman year of college, back in 1991, I was home for either Thanksgiving or Christmas break.  I really can’t remember which.  A few of us were gathered at my friend Prescott’s house after hanging out for a brief photo op at Teal Park up in the gazebo.  I remember his family being there and a few other friends.  Somehow, our small gathering was crashed pretty quickly by more than the living room could actually handle.  I remember very little of it other than how I felt about it.  These were my friends.  I was surrounded by people who cared about me.

What were we doing?  Playing music.  I seem to remember Prescott playing bass guitar while his brother the 12-string and me on my electric piano.  How it got there, I really don’t remember – maybe we planned on just jamming out anyway.  Regardless, the music coming from the house brought friends from all over town.  And it was a part of us.  And we were a part of it.  Something bigger.  Something magical.  If only for a moment.

And I learned how to play House of the Rising Sun that night.  With friends.

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2 Responses to Jam.

  1. Anil Jain says:

    I remember, Derek. Fond memories of a great high school circle of friends.

    • romanhokie says:

      Agreed. Something I have now again by phone and electronic means. Locally, it continues to be a struggle. Such is life. On a cultural note, I’m thrilled that the friends of mine with different cultural heritage are finding fulfillment outside of Horseheads. I got to see the same thing with one of our classmates at college and it was phenomenal.

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